


You're Awful, I Love You

by ladyheroines



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyheroines/pseuds/ladyheroines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They fight all the time, but they always end up okay. This time was different.<br/>This time things happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Awful, I Love You

They had fight.  
This isn’t new, they fight all the time. About the dirt tracked in Tim’s kitchen, about each other’s annoying little habits, even about the weather. They fight like it is an Olympic sport and they both have trained all their lives to take home the gold.  
It has gotten to the point where neither of them remembers what they fought about by the end of the fight, all of the ones previous just blurring together. All their fights end in one of two ways, though. Either with very good, very angry sex, or with one of them breaking down, letting something get to them and a hurt expression slip, and then they both scramble to right their wrongs so they can be okay again.  
This fight did not end like that.  
Jason started it. Something about Tim never caring for himself or making time for those who care about _him_. It just escalated from there. They ended up screaming for what felt like hours, right up in each other’s faces, when Jason spit out he didn’t even know why he stuck around. Tim recoiled, hurt, and yelled right back that maybe Jason should just leave then, since he clearly wants to.  
"Fine, I will!" Jason spit in return, snatching his backpack up off the bed.  
"Fine, just go!" Tim threw back, pointing towards the door.  
So Jason did. He walked out, straight through the apartment, and out the front door. Tim heard it slam, didn’t even flinch.  
He is flinching now. Jason walked out the door at 2:38 PM on Saturday, and now it is a few seconds away from 6:53 PM on Sunday. Jason has not come back, has not called, and is showing no signs of coming back.  
Tim hacked into Jason’s security cameras, he is not back at his safe house.  
Not that Tim is worrying or anything. Clearly, Jason should be the one worrying about him. Calling and begging him for forgiveness. Tim refuses to be the one to cave when Jason had started the fight first, had been the one to turn it nasty first. Tim should not be worrying,  
And yet here he was. _Worrying_.  
This could really be the end of it for them. He doesn’t want it to be, but it could be. And no matter how he feels about Jason, Jason has to be the one to apologize first. Tim can’t stay with Jason because of his own feelings if he is just going to walk all over him.  
Tim keeps telling himself that, but at this point he would take a drunken and rambling phone call with a half-assed apology tacked on the end.  
As if on cue, his cell rings. He absolutely does not dive to answer it. No, he just moves quickly, because he worried. He is allowed to be worried about his boyfriend/adopted brother. He has the phone half way to his ear before he really registers that the caller ID states it is Dick calling.  
He tries to ignore the disappointment that gnaws at him when he says hello to his brother. It is not hard, since it is quickly replaced with panic at Dick’s words.  
When Tim arrives, Dick tries to calm him down, tries to explain. “Just let me see him. I need to see him.”  
"Tim, he’s in pretty bad shape. The best thing for him now is sleep. We should-"  
" _Dick. Let me. see. my. boyfriend_ ,” Tim growls, his voice deadly. Dick flutters his hands uselessly, but stops actively trying to block the doorway, and Tim shoves past Dick to get inside the room.  
He stops in his tracks, sucking in a sharp breath. Jason has IVs, heart rate monitors, and bandages all over him. His arms are above the covers, seemingly okay, while the sheets pulled up to his chest only almost hide the bandages wrapped around his torso. To say he is conscious would be to stretch the definition of the word, but his eyes are fluttering open and closed and he seems to notice the movement of somebody in the room.  
Tim approaches the bed slowly, his throat locked up tight and his fists clutched so hard his knuckles are white. Dick had said something about a gang fight, about how Steph had happened to find him, bleeding and delirious in an alley, his injuries crusted over and drenched in dried blood. She had heard his fevered muttering.  
"Dick, I said ta… Go ‘way," Jason mumbles, his voice drifting in and out of existence and his pitch rambling.  
Tim swallows, moving to cautiously sit on the edge of the bed beside Jason, slipping their hands together in a light squeeze. “It’s me, Jason,” Tim says, his voice tiny and unsure. His own breathing is growing ragged enough to rival Jason’s, and he wonders vaguely if he was going to have a panic attack right then and there.  
Jason’s eyes flutter further open this time, managing to stay open long enough for Tim to see the unfocused look in the usually brilliant blue eyes.  
"Babybird?" Jason manages, his voice unsure, still pitching in and out. Tim breathes a sigh of relief at hearing the affectionate nickname.  
“‘M right here Jason. I won’t go anywhere,” Tim says, his voice choking up a little. Jason seems to smile, but it could just be the painkillers.  
“‘Know you won’t, Timmy,” he mumbles, his voice completely falling off at the end as his eyes start to fall closed. “Love ‘ou.” His body seems to go stiller, the machine’s beeping growing slower.  
"I love you, too," Tim whispers back, clutching at Jason’s hand for something solid. "I love you."


End file.
